Luyện nghe bài hát Color My World Mine

I once met a man who himself not to dream
What he to have seen was a glimpse of everything
He's been painting on canvas since age thirteen
And he only exists in the mind of a higher being
And I enjoy his work; scenic landscapes
But each one is focused on an easel where the man paints painting himself
And all that's in his visual
He said this was the only way he could make himself
Ever since he could remember, he had one reoccur
But until about ten ago, it didn't matter
It consisted of loud, distorted sounds echoing off the
He ran on top of it in attempt to a ladder
Now sometimes, he'd get so close but never touch his
caused him much frustration 'cause he didn't know what it meant
And by the end of the dream, he saw the scene a bird's eye
Only to witness his body laying on the cement

It was only to his dead body laying on the cement
At first it freaked him out, but after a he grew content
So he thought, "It's just a dream," and living his life
Writing his soul on the 'cause it sheds his planet light
And it goes on and on like and time, ain't nothing odd
It's not that he didn't believe, he just approve of God
His experience was one I couldn't
'Till I stopped being detective and to him as a friend
He

He once saw a painting that his whole life story
It was then that he knew he was the art of
He once saw a painting that his whole life story
A brush stroke of the gods made him one in their symphony
He once saw a painting that told his whole life
He for himself and not the rest of humanity
He once saw a painting that his whole life story
And I realize I'm not real
God imagined me

like I said
About ten years ago, the event that his whole reality
Took on his monthly trip to the local art gallery
It was there where he his contemporaries
And there where he nearly carried his sanity to a hole and buried it
It was a mysterious day
The was almost empty
And he got chills his spine just being present in the scene
On the wall, there was a picture that looked
And when he got close, his stopped
cause he saw it was a painting of his
It was a of his dream
His on a runway
By a ladder to an airplane with its spinning
Which accounted for the noise
The up was perfect
And that was the day he believing in existing
He his creator
I mean, words can't
What must have went on in his brain while he stared a frame
Of a of art which he created and was at the same time
The mind can't that much, it's just insane
It's like reading a where each words describe your thoughts
And in quotations, it reads you say when you talk
You it can't happen
But it did
I guess there's surprisingly wide cracks in each life's
He stumbled upon an when he never had a question
And decided to stop dreaming to maintain his mental
Now he talks to people
Just in his basement
Writing infinity, by painting
himself
This is a universe
Is it all a blueprint?
In the real universe, is my consciousness
Are we really a higher intelligence made up?
A of imagination colored by a cosmic paintbrush?
Maybe all of our art creates the fate of beings
Then every character in ever novel thinks it's alive and were gods
Ruling
Just a
I don't what it means
But that's the story of the man who himself not to dream

He once saw a that told his whole life story
He witnessed the of the word "existing"
He saw a painting that told his whole life story
He colored his world theirs, and concluded he living
He once saw a painting that told his life story
The hidden variable all that is is art
And when I my eyes, I see eternity as a story
A God imagined the God that me
And I am God
And so on